Forgotten Forbidden America | Book 7 | Highway To Hell, page 2
part #7 of Forgotten Forbidden America Series
In all reality, Michelle understood Brandy’s point. Crops were in and being distributed now, they were adding other farms further out from Mountain View to make subassemblies for the refit centers, and this wasn’t a good time for them to take off. But both understood commanding orders and of course, neither liked them. Unlike when they were in the service, now they could bitch at those who ordered them, and since only one person could, Fern, he alone got to reap the whirlwind.
What very few realized, Brandy held her tongue, for the most part, on all matters, from what she really thought about the feds, being interrupted with meetings, and life in general. Only those close to her or on her staff got to hear Brandy in the raw. Michelle was one of those and in that regard, she was very proud of Brandy. Case in point, Brandy had wanted to cut the dicks off all male feds captured, just so they couldn’t reproduce. Female feds that were captured, Brandy had wanted to have a hysterectomy done in the field with a pocket knife. If they survived, Brandy had said they could have a dose of Tylenol for the pain. Brandy’s plan was simple, don’t let stupid breed.
That was just one suggestion of many that those close to Brandy got to hear but thankfully, Brandy didn’t push forth those ideas. Michelle was thankful because she would’ve backed the ‘Breeding Reform’ as Brandy had called it.
When the assembly wanted to repass Missouri’s original state constitution, Brandy balked. Her reasoning, that’s what got them here in the first place. So, her solution, pass the same constitution the Republic did. Only where it referred to country, state was placed in and where states were mentioned, counties were replaced. Then, jobs like governor for president and so on and so forth. The assembly had loved it and passed it. Brandy had signed it last week.
Spotting Brandy heading to the coffee pot, “You packed?” Michelle called out.
“I shouldn’t have to ‘pack’ to go see Fern,” she shot back, filling her mug up.
As an aide came out of her office, “It has to be important so please, control your tongue,” Michelle advised, grabbing a coffee cup the aide brought to her.
“Ooooohhhh,” Brandy crooned, “I do control my tongue with Fern,” she replied. “I know he has a shit job, but I just want him to leave me alone so I can get my shit job done too. We can video conference, that’s almost like us being there.”
“Some things you don’t want to have on video,” Michelle replied, grabbing the sugar.
“Shit,” Brandy spat. “I’d televise all my meetings just to let the feds know; those of us they left alive in Missouri want to gut each person in the federal states.”
Fighting not to roll her eyes, “Brandy, I agree on many levels with you, but if we push them to where they feel they don’t have a choice to surrender, this war will go on for decades,” Michelle told her and tested her coffee with a sip. Realizing Brandy had made this pot, Michelle grabbed the milk. The coffee Brandy made, Michelle was certain if she put it in her four-wheeler it would run, the coffee was beyond stout. Every time she drank it, Michelle would look down her shirt at her chest, expecting to see hair sprouting.
Knocking down the instant crack she was about to make about the coffee, Michelle glanced up at Brandy and found her studying her. “What?” Michelle asked.
“If you want to stay here, I’ll tell Fern to fuck off,” Brandy told her.
Not wanting to go but feeling the need to go just to keep Brandy’s mouth in line, “No, he asked for both of us. I’ll go,” Michelle told her.
Brandy wasn’t stupid and knew why Michelle was going and honestly, wanted her to go. All in all, Michelle could do what few others could; get Brandy to tone down her retorts, to a certain degree. If someone acted stupid or asked a stupid question, only God himself could curb Brandy’s tongue and so far, God had never felt that restraint. Not as bad as Brandy, even Michelle was guilty of just popping off to stupid. Neither cared what others thought or if they hurt feelings, they were there to do a job and would do it to the best of their abilities.
“You shouldn’t be away from the kids that long,” Brandy told her, but Michelle shook her head.
“No, we all have to sacrifice for this war and in time they’ll understand,” Michelle replied as an aide came over, handing her a clipboard of scheduled tasks. “Is this the current inventory of destroyed tanks awaiting rebuild?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I completed it last night,” the aide nodded.
“What?” Brandy asked.
“The armor refit centers will be moving to production centers by January,” Michelle answered. “I wasn’t expecting them to turn around the tanks so fast. My first projections put them rebuilding until March and then going to production.”
Shrugging and taking a sip, “We’ll be going to battle again soon and we can rebuild what’s hurt,” Brandy countered. “What about the helicopter and light armor centers?”
“Those are going to be rebuilding damaged units for a bit,” Michelle answered. “I was wrong when I thought it would be easier to rebuild a helicopter than a tank.” Brandy understood and had said something because a helicopter was more delicate than a tank, it flew after all, but didn’t push the issue because Michelle wanted eight armor refit centers to every aerial refit/rebuild site. After reading the proposal Brandy had wanted it to be four to one but in the end, reasoned they needed armor more.
“How’s Tasha holding up?” Brandy asked. The day Tasha had returned, Michelle had pulled Brandy aside telling Brandy, and only Brandy, who Tasha really was and she had escaped from a camp the Sin Eaters had hit. Only a few at the house knew what had occurred at the camp where Tasha worked because even now, they still got reports from the feds that they were looking for all those who had been working in the camp.
Nearly draining her mug, Michelle moved to refill it as she answered. “She’s actually doing very good, considering. When Tasha found out Nancy was in Cyber Warfare, as well as her own daughter, Tasha begged to help since that was her MOS (Military Occupational System code) in the Army. Her first enlistment, Tasha was 17C Cyber Operations Specialist and then when she reenlisted, she was trained as a warrant officer with dual qualification as 170A Cyber Warfare Technician and 170B Electronic Warfare Technician. Nancy told me Ariel inherited her mother’s genes for computers.”
Watching Michelle add some coffee to the cream and sugar in her mug, “Surprised the feds even let her live,” Brandy admitted.
Grabbing a spoon, “Trust me, they never planned on Tasha living,” Michelle assured Brandy, stirring the stout coffee and hoping she’d added enough to take the sharp bite off. In all reality, Michelle loved coffee and compared to many at the farm, she liked it strong. Compared to what Brandy made, Michelle drank it mild and everyone else drank coffee-flavored water.
Watching Michelle give a test sip, Brandy couldn’t help but grin as Michelle grabbed more milk. “Nancy has taken care of that, I trust?” Brandy asked and Michelle nodded, taking another sip after adding more milk. Unlike the feds, the Republic was now receiving imports from the world, and coffee was a huge one. In the fed states, coffee was starting to get scarce because stockpiles were getting depleted.
Supplies were getting in by blockade runners from the Caribbean, but the only country the feds bought coffee from directly was Ethiopia. Most of the plantations in Ethiopia were now owned by corporations, and those corporations had large numbers of contractors there to protect their assets. While the rest of the continent of Africa was in turmoil, those plantations weren’t. All the other major suppliers had cut ties or were in active combat. The world’s second largest supplier, Vietnam, had huge plantations, but China had nearly wiped out the population. Those not killed had left, and China was just now getting the fields producing after moving some of its own population.
Just out of reflex Michelle pulled her shirt out, glancing at her chest to see if hair had sprouted after the coffee. Not spotting any, she let her shirt go. “I’m going to set up what I need my team to do, then head back to grab my suitcase and tell the kids bye,” Michelle told her.
Reaching over and patting the M4 slung across Michelle’s back, “You’d better not leave your arms,” Brandy more warned than stated.
Scoffing, “Please,” Michelle said. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I’m ever without a weapon. I’ll never let the feds take it, and nobody else will either.”
Chapter Two
A perfect angel for Heaven
When the truck came to a stop, Sergeant Eason opened his door as troops in the back jumped out. Grabbing his rifle off the dashboard, Eason looked at the house nestled among a few trees and a nice barn behind it. Off to the side of the house he saw a figure on a ladder stapling clear plastic on one side of a hundred and fifty feet wide and three hundred feet long greenhouse. “What the hell is she doing?” Eason groaned.
The driver climbed out, slamming his door closed and circled the truck to stop beside Eason. “Sarge, the sergeant major sees her doing that, he’ll crucify us,” Specialist Fourth Class Akin said.
“She’s over sixty. How in the hell can she move and work that long?” Eason mumbled, but was in total agreement about the sergeant major, the Command Sergeant Major over the base around Camelot. Despite being enlisted and outranked by all officers, E-9s held a lot of power and were respected by all.
Ms. Ethel had only been there a month, but Eason was certain everyone in Camelot knew of her. The fact Ethel was living in one of the older houses on the peninsula spoke volumes to anyone with a brain. That first week she’d arrived, Ethel had assigned herself to the second division’s mess hall and officer dining area. After that first day, troops and officers alike would’ve rioted if Ms. Ethel had been removed. Holy shit, that woman could cook.
Then Ms. Ethel had gone to see Major General McMahon who was over Camelot. She didn’t have an appointment and had just gone to see him. The next day, Ms. Ethel was setting up in the house she now occupied. Only six others lived in houses that weren’t in a designated area. Three were generals, and the other three were Homeland supervisors.
That was when Command Sergeant Major Huber had become affiliated with Ms. Ethel. Despite the house having sat vacant for nearly three years, within days Ms. Ethel had it cleaned up and power was run from the new grid to the house. Before she’d even been there a week, Ms. Ethel had started her morning rounds and that was now where everyone knew her from. Ms. Ethel always brought cookies, muffins, or other treats to different areas around Camelot. There were movie stars, singers, and other famous people living in Heaven but after that second week, Ms. Ethel outshined them all.
Waving a hand toward Ethel up on the ladder, “Akin, get some of the others and go… Just go do what she says,” Eason finally said. Turning around, Akin pointed at some others who had climbed out of the truck, and all took off running.
The house was on the far north side of the peninsula, over two miles from the housing projects and city of Camelot. Yet Ms. Ethel was not only allowed to move there, but got power run and other amenities like propane delivered to huge tanks near the barn. Almost like magic, chickens had shown up and then three milk cows that first week there. The greenhouse frame had already been there but also in that first week, Ethel had it wrapped in clear plastic and with plants inside.
Major Blevins, who was over the military police in Camelot, did stop by a lot because he was wondering just where the supplies were coming from. Blevins, like many others, soon found out Ethel knew how to network and trade, seemingly always getting what she wanted or needed. Eason himself had seen some of the drivers who hauled supplies into Camelot, stopping at the house. Because he’d been told long ago to report such things Eason did, only to have Sergeant Major Huber bring the report Eason had sent in and hand it back. “What she does isn’t to be reported, Eason. Understood?” Huber had told him, and Eason got the message loud and clear.
Not that Eason minded because his platoon had been assigned to check on Ethel every day and see if she needed anything, and help if asked or told by Ethel. Thing was, Ethel never asked or wanted help. She always said it was her duty to help as much as she could. Even the report Eason had sent in had been sugar-coated, not saying just how much he had seen dropped off at the house. His platoon was the luckiest because Ethel fed them treats every day while they escorted her on rounds and then to the mess halls so Ethel could help with lunch and dinner.
It was the fact Ethel never seemed to sleep at all that blew Eason away. Patrols drove by the house at night and always reported lights on and work being done. Last week, two industrial ovens had been installed in the carports and now, Ethel hauled around hundreds of pounds of treats for some lucky area of Camelot.
It was listening to Huber and Blevins talking just a few days ago when Eason had finally understood. Ms. Ethel raised morale more than anything the brass or suits had ever done. The movie stars and singers had all tried to raise morale, but nobody in Camelot was impressed with them anymore. Ms. Ethel brought treats and a warm smile, telling everyone they were doing a good job.
Even Eason knew Camelot was only supposed to be a protected housing area for some, but the feds had expanded on that the first days of the project. There were oil tanks and a refinery now near the main entrance. Coming further in, a new munition plant had come on line three months ago and beside it was a textile plant that made gear for the military. This had bothered Eason because they were military targets, but the Republic never hit areas near civilians. The only problem Camelot had to worry about was Sin Eaters.
Not even Eason thought the Sin Eaters were bad enough to hit Camelot. Yeah, there were only twelve thousand troops stationed here now, but Homeland had five thousand agents and there were four thousand national police stationed here. All police departments were now under Homeland and formed a national police force.
If that wasn’t enough, the technology in Camelot just overwhelmed Eason. The IDs everyone wore had an active RFID transmitter and there were antennas covering large parts of the peninsula, but there were a few dead spots. Along with the transmitters, there was a network of ground radar stations so any human body approaching an occupied area was immediately spotted half a mile away. If that body didn’t have an RFID, troops were coming to kill it. No country before had ever had such a large population under such tight control.
At any time, a person’s activity and location could be displayed on a computer screen. None were allowed to move about without their ID, not even the generals. There was a dusk-to-dawn curfew and only those who had business or a job could be outside, unless you were Ms. Ethel.
On the sixth day in her new house, the watch center that monitored the entire peninsula saw Ms. Ethel leave her house. Like others, they saw the upper ranks gave her leeway and didn’t raise any alarms. Just from the speed she was moving they could tell Ethel was in an electric golf cart that had been assigned to her. None in the watch center, not even the supervisors had a cart assigned to them.
Four miles from her house Ethel had stopped and then started moving really slow, and this did start to worry the supervisor on duty that night. When Ethel stopped near one of the main cell towers that relayed nodes of scanners, they finally called the Military Police to investigate. The supervisor didn’t want to send members of the police force because some were complete assholes and if they insulted Ms. Ethel, the supervisor was sure he would get blamed.
The MPs arrived to find Ms. Ethel beside the cell tower, sitting on a lawn wagon loaded with cookies. She’d wanted to deliver some to the night crews that worked at the ammunition plant and tell them she appreciated all their hard work, but her golf cart’s batteries had died. Instead of going home, Ms. Ethel loaded the cookies in the wagon and started walking to make sure the night crew knew they were doing a good job.
Knowing who she was, the captain who arrived with the MPs loaded up Ethel’s wagon and drove her to the munition factory. Pulling her wagon along, Ms. Ethel handed out cookies with a warm smile and patted many cheeks, telling them they were doing a great job.
When Eason had arrived that next morning, he’d dropped off another golf cart so that wouldn’t happen again. To make sure Ethel wasn’t left on the road again, she was given a radio and cellphone to call for assistance. The brass, at first, tried to rotate another platoon out with Eason’s, but it seemed Ms. Ethel for some reason didn’t, for a lack of a better term, bond with them. Now only Eason’s platoon was assigned to Ethel and he or his troops didn’t care in the least. They all looked at Ethel like a long, lost grandmother that they adored.
As far as Eason knew, there had only been one person who had treated Ms. Ethel harshly and that was a Homeland agent. One morning, Eason and his troops were helping load muffins up for Ethel’s delivery to a random spot and a senior Homeland agent arrived in a SUV. Jumping out, he’d started screaming and demanding to know where Ethel was getting sugar because it was a rationed item now and even he knew what she was making required a lot of sugar.
Eason had to stop three of his troops from opening fire on the agent while he’d called the sergeant major. Just the fact the sergeant major showed up in ten minutes with three dozen MPs blew Eason away. The agent soon discovered E-9s have power. Placed in handcuffs, the agent was tossed in a truck and hauled off. It was that night Eason had found out the agent was transferred to Chicago to monitor a camp. Two days later, the agent’s family who lived in Camelot was transferred to a housing project in Atlanta.
If Ms. Ethel wasn’t so nice, many would’ve been terrified of her but the truth was, his troops believed the agent should’ve been shot and told the sergeant major as much. The next morning, Huber gave Eason a written order from Major General McMahon that gave Eason permission to detain anyone who interfered with his duty on his assignment to Ms. Ethel. He was allowed to use any means necessary, including deadly force.
Never liking the fact that death sentences could just be handed out without a court proceeding, Eason took the order and vowed to follow it. It was Major Blevins who clarified the why, and Eason then discovered how much of a morale boost Ms. Ethel was to Camelot. The night she took treats to the munition factory, production increased by ten percent, just with her showing up with cookies and telling the workers they were doing a great job.
